


Fratercula

by Dingelchen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amphibious Character, Amphibious Clint Barton, Breathing Underwater, Gen, Mutant Biology, Mutant Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:50:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dingelchen/pseuds/Dingelchen
Summary: Long as he remembers, his brother is always there until he isn't, trusting others ends in shit until he doesn't, and Clint breathes on both sides of the surface. That at least never changes.





	Fratercula

_Ow, ow_ , he thinks, hobbling along through the rubble, _ow_. The street is a mess of random broken shit and abandoned cars, dotted with fires. It makes navigating without aggravating anything a bit tricky, and the smoke is biting.

But the sky is clear blue with no magic portals or flying scooters in sight, so that is probably a mark towards _mission accomplished_. Also any aliens are busy being dead on the ground and are no longer trying to kill him, so that is another good sign. He squints, trying to blink away the film in his eyes, and almost trips over another dead alien.

 _Actively_ trying to kill him, Clint amends in the suspended second before the fall, and barely manages to catch himself in a stumble, though the sudden sharp inhale sends him into another coughing fit. Hands braced on his good knee he catches his breath again, grimacing at the tongueful of slime he got out of it. He spits. At least it's on the way to being clear again, not the dense grey muck it was minutes ago. That had been gross.

"Hawkeye!" a voice calls out, followed by a pair of legs with a red cape touching down a few yards away. Thor, also filed under: _aliens, not trying to kill you_ , so, yay.

"Friend of the valiant Natasha Portal-closer! I have been sent in search of you. Are you well?"

"Mmhm," he says, looking up. "About equal parts bruise and human right now; only jumped off a building and smashed through a window. No, really, I'll live," he adds at Thor's concerned expression. "As soon as I get off that leg and a week of sleep. Sorry 'bout the silence, the comm died somewhere back there. Everything good?"

Thor, who has come up next to him, lightens. "Then I have glad tidings. The enemy has been vanquished. All our friends yet live and have won honor for themselves."

Thank you, Clint thinks, letting his eyes drop and close.

"We are to meet at the Iron Man's tower. There my brother has been bested by Banner and still awaits our return."

His fingers bite into his thigh. Warm and roughly textured and dry but for his own sweat. Behind his lids is muddy black. He is breathing. He is fine.

He straightens back up, but just a bit too fast, and the sudden spark of pain in his side sends him into another fit of coughing. Thor looks on dubiously while he retches and spits. And spits, and tries not to think the worst–-

"Are you not well? Truly I am not familiar with--"

"I'm fine, 's just normal house cleaning," he rasps, relieved, putting up a hand. "Walked right into a dust cloud back there. Gonna be back good as new as soon as I get that bit of pulverized Manhattan outta my lungs." Not even a lie.

Thor seems to accept he's not going to die right here, and offers him a hand. "We are awaited at the tower, if you are then ready. I will bear you hence, if you will allow."

Walking all the way there would definitely be a pain, and Coulson had already given the guy the thumbs up, so, "Thank god," which, _heh_.

He steps up and Thor inclines and allows Clint to sling his arms over his plated shoulders. In turn he slides an arm below his quiver and pull-–

"Oww, _fuck_ ," Clint says, now pressed against Thor's side, ribs aching. "Bruises! I'm only human."

Thor apologizes and adjusts his grip. Then he spins the hammer, and then they are off the ground, flying.

  


* * *

  


Clint's earliest memory is sitting in the tub with his brother, and he has inhaled a mouthful of soapy water and Mom comes running through the bathroom door. The visual is very clear, but divorced from feeling; he doesn't remember the sting of the soap, or the bawling, or -- if Barney can be trusted -- puking after. He hadn't known that it would be harmful and you were not supposed to do that, and Barney had told him to, in the way that kids are dumb little shits. Clint was like three or four years old at the time, and sometimes he wonders if it is a genuine memory or if his brain constructed it second-hand.

Clint doesn't know if he learned to breathe water before or after that incident. He doesn't remember a time when he didn't know to stick his head below the surface and let go, to not hold his breath, doesn't remember ever believing that drowning was a thing that should happen to him. And why would he? He never had to fear for his life in the water, never had to be rescued by a concerned parent, never was.

And as kids they had never known enough about the world to be disturbed -- marveled at it, sure, but never questioned it. The sun rose in the east, water was wet, and Clint breathed on both sides of the surface. Barney didn't, but that never mattered; it was theirs to know and theirs to keep.

Their parents didn't know. Probably. Clint doesn't remember any of them ever talking about it out loud. And Dad at least never found him when he was hiding in the pond. But Barney had always known, for as long as Clint can think back, and Barney watches out for him, and he doesn't need anyone else.

For many years, he was the only one that knew -- really knew, not just looking at it and seeing sleight of hand, or getting them in trouble when an adult thinks they take pretend too far or give other kids dumb ideas.

When Barney orchestrated their escape from the orphanage Clint naturally went with him, all the way to the carnival, where they are allowed to stay and in return run errands. The boss is called Lambert, who talks funny when in front of visitors, but he is told that people pay more for strange things, and the _Cirque des Merveilles_ has lots of them. Magicians and mindreaders, people who knot up their limbs and stuffed monsters with bristly fur and fiery eyes and a dried up fish-thing with a human face and sharp teeth.

Barney dared him to go into the monster tents after dark, once, and he had nightmares for a week. He much prefers helping Jolene, a bit older than them, who is nice and pretty and not scary. She also has a small trained herd of mice, two dogs, one small and one big, two chickens, and a cat that behaves like a dog. So there.

Jolene is also how he gets found out.

It's a hot summer day and they go swimming in a lake that is nearby, and Jolene lets them go after they have assured and shown her that yes, they can swim just fine, and she plops down on her blanket with her sunglasses and a book. The boys go swimming, and after some time, Jolene still away on the shore, Clint sticks his head down and breathes water, and goes swimming and diving like that.

He is floating beneath, watching the play of sunlight breaking on the surface, when he is rudely grabbed up and towed, pulled up onto solid earth. He comes face to face with a neon pink suit and a hysterical Jolene above him, eyes wide, and Clint can't breathe above water level nor answer her with his lungs full so he goes with it when she turns him over, spews the water out, then tells her he's fine as soon as he has emptied enough.

She hugs him to her, and she's shouting at Barney for not looking out and shouting at herself and then she is just making breathy wailing noises into his hair and crying, and her father is also there now and is scolding Barney.

Clint doesn't know what to do but pet her arm, and she says she thought he drowned and she wasn't watching good enough.

But she is wrong, and he can't anyway, and he wants Jolene to stop crying. He says _it's okay, Jo, it's okay_ , and _I can breathe underwater_ , and when she lets out a laugh and sniffs and doesn't stop petting him he says _no, really, I can show you_ , and Barney nods his head up and down, and says _yeah he really can_.

He worms his way out of her momentarily loosened grasp and, still holding onto her hand, slips back over the edge where the water comes up to his chest. She follows him, red-rimmed and dazed, her hand maintaining an iron grip on him, and he says _don't be scared_ and hunkers down, exhaling in a flurry of bubbles.

She has started tugging on his hand again, and when the view above his upturned face clears so he can see her it's the scared face again, and that wasn't what he wanted. So he squeezes her hand and smiles up at her, and takes deep exaggerated breaths, chest expanding and falling again, waggling his tongue in his open mouth. The horrified look on Jolene's face has frozen in place and he watches as bit by bit it crumbles into mute blankness. The tugging has lessened to a vague pull that is easily resisted.

He waves at her from below, and stays where he is. _Do you see?_ his lips say.

Her other hand comes down and skims about his head, touches his face. Feels the long watery stream of his exhale that he couldn't fake if he tried. So he breathes in and out, in and out, and his smile widens as he watches the blankness leave, replaced by a growing trickle of wonder and incredulous delight.

It is he who tugs at her hand now, and she finally lets go of his, wipes her eyes and her nose and holds her breath and follows his invitation, dropping down and squinting at him through the water. But he knows she can't stay, and so he grins and blows at her, and she jerks back and stands up again, shaking off the water, sputtering and laughing.

Clint follows her, and lets himself be hoisted up in her arms. He bends over the crook of her elbow and empties out in a few coughs, then straightens back up and hugs her properly, resting his head on her shoulder. _Are you okay?_ he asks.

Jolene snorts and looks at him. _Jesus, am I–? We're okay, we're okay._ She leans her head against his for a moment, then moves back again to tell him: _Clint, you crazy, lovely idiot_ , before tightening her arms and pressing her mouth to the side on his face.

Over her shoulder he looks up at Barney, standing nearby grinning, and beyond him Jolene's father, disbelief on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the AvengerKink meme.
> 
> Totally forgot to re-archive it here, so I'm doing that now before New Year. And the rest of the chapters are still in development hell, sigh.
> 
> Title is a dumb multi-layer wordplay (five at least) of the dumb sort that amuses no one but me.


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